Sweet Misery
by Rynn Abhorsen
Summary: LAST CHAPTER UPLOADED! "Their supplies were dwindling, but the knowledge that Faye had left to died weighed heavily on his shoulders. Was she still here? He counted on his fingers, she should have three more days left" (FxS)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: ok, I'm giving you a warning; don't expect a happy ending for this. It will be Faye x Spike as always, but this won't be a "lets get married and live happily ever after" fic ok? It's coming from experiences I'm having right now, with a certain deadly disease. Remember, This is a deathfic.  It has six chapters, most of them long for my standards. This may appear in the beginning like a fluff fic, but it does have a deeper meaning. Anyway, I despise fluff.

Disclaimer: If I owned Cowboy Bebop, and was hilariously successful, I would have made it so Julia never existed, and you'd know that Spike lived, and him and Faye would be together foh eva! Wow, that was way too happy for this fic.  

Sweet Misery

By: Rynn Abhorsen

"Spike-person! Ed has a question for you!" Spike sighed, eyes closed, as he lay on the horrible yellow couch. Ed sat on his chest, thumping her fists on his face. Finally he grunted,

"Fine Ed! If I answer your question, can I go back to sleep?" Opening one eye laboriously, the red-haired hackers face filled his vision. She squealed and answered,

"Two questions! Then Spike-person can go back to sleep." 

"Fine." Spike sat up, propping himself on his elbows. The maniac computer genius half vaulted-somersaulted into a crouch on the floor. Spike ran a hand through his green-tinted hair. Ed asked,

"Where is Jet-person?" Spike grumbled under his breath, you got me up for this? He answered grudgingly,

"Ed, you know Jet is here, on Venus, turning in a bounty. Remember, you helped catch the guy. He said he'd be back in about two hours and we should stay on the ship." Ed nodded and launched straight into the air. Hanging like a demented primate from the ceiling fan, she inquired,

"What's wrong with Faye-Faye?" Spike mumbled and replied,

"Why do you think something's wrong with her?" Ed scratched her head and supplied,

"Faye-Faye hasn't been arguing, eating, or sleeping well." 

Spike thought back, those were all true. He had been full lately, partly because Faye always refused food and went straight to her room. She hadn't been on a bounty hunt in days, and she also hadn't been bitchy lately, merely shrugging when Spike said something meant to anger her. Smiling to himself he thought, _I haven't been called lunkhead in days._ But sleeping well? Faye never slept really well, always yelling things in her sleep, but lately, she hadn't slept, just stared at the ceiling, coughing often. Ed was still staring at him intently, awaiting an answer, so he replied,

"Maybe she's sick?" Ed nodded and squealed, 

"I'll get her!" Before Spike could stop her, she bounded out of the room and into Faye's. She dragged the woman into the living room, and Spike was caught off guard by the change in Faye's appearance. 

Her already pale skin seemed like paper, translucent. Her normally lively emerald eyes seemed completely dead, focusing rarely, and her violet-tinged hair was plastered to her forehead. Ed dragged her by the wrist into the room and Spike made room for her on the couch. She murmured quietly, as if subdued,

"What's going on?" Ed spoke almost quietly,

"Faye-Faye hasn't been herself lately, are you sick?" Faye was about to answer before a torrent of coughing took her, and she put a hand to her mouth. It wasn't a quiet cough, but one that seemed to tear from her body, coming in quick gasps. Her shoulders shook with the pure force of the coughs, and her whole body hunched over to accommodate the pressure of her lungs. Spike stared wide-eyed as the woman's coughing slowly subsided, and she wiped her mouth, resuming her normal posture she spoke,

"I don't think I'm sick." Then Spike noticed the flecks of red on her palm, where her hand had been covering her mouth. 

"Faye," he spoke softly, "Is your mouth cut?" She looked questioningly at him and answered,

"No." before her voice cracked and she began yet again to cough. Spike watched tensely as it stopped after about a minute. There was more blood on her palm and nails, and small amounts around her mouth. He said quietly, not wanting to alarm her,

"I think you might be bleeding internally." She shook her head slowly and repeated,

"I'm fine." She didn't sound sure. Ed, who had been watching while perched on the back of the couch, asked,

"Faye-Faye, why is your back bruised?" Faye twisted her head to look at the fuzzyheaded girl on the couch. 

"What do you mean?" Ed reached out a hand and touched a spot on her back, 

"Here, and here, and here." She trailed off as Spike looked at Faye's back. Her low cut tank top gave him a view of the blackish spots. They ranged from the size of a dime to almost an inch across. His eyes widened at the pure magnitude of the bruising, no normal wound could cause that. He stood up,

"Faye, you need to see a doctor, soon." She repeated,

"I'm fine!" but was cut off by another flood of coughing, and more blood from her mouth. Spike took her wrist, and called a taxi. As he ushered Faye out the door, he was surprised at the woman's frailty. He could feel each rib, slender as a twig, and the column of her spine. Even the joint of her wrist, and the knuckles of her hand, seemed about to burst from the skin. She walked forward, and he could see how each step took a vast amount of energy from her. She stumbled, and Spike caught her, holding onto her wrist and shoulder. As he supported most of her weight, he had a realization. She weighs less than Ed, he thought. It was true, and also rather scary. She should weigh upwards of a ninety pounds, and what he was holding felt like maybe sixty. 

She kept walking in her slow way, Spike still supporting her.  The cab pulled up and she slid slowly into the seat. The cab driver, a rotund Indian man with a mustache, asked with an accent,

"Where to?" Spike spoke calmly and evenly, 

"ER."


	2. Chapter 2

To Phobia: umm…what can I say? That was not a review, it was hate speech. But thank you for giving me an aspect I could improve, even though I was already alerted by someone, Silent Venus, in a much kinder way. 

Also, when you said I was being too dramatic, and that symptoms don't show up that fast, you were wrong. I do have the disease that Faye does, and symptoms such as mine showed up completely without warning and it wasn't until I collapsed at school did I get medical attention. Please do not flame me for something that you have not verified. 

Next, said is useful, but using it over and over again gets boring. If you look in any of the good works of literature, you will not find said over and over again, just as you will not find the same pronoun at the beginning of every sentence. 

Lastly, please if you would like to be respected, respect us. I am clinically depressed, a recovering masochist, but I don't want your pity, I want you to think about the impact words have. They are just words but think about how words can change ideals and nations. Thank you, and flame if you want. 

Sweet Misery

The doctor, a comfortable, serious man of middle age, closed the door behind him. He had wisps of white hair on his nearly baldhead, blue eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses, and a white coat. He flipped the charts and said, "So, Miss Valentine, your symptoms are heavy coughing, and bruising on your back. Is that all?" 

Faye shook her head, violet hair swinging, before she coughed once, leaving more flecks of blood on her palms. The doctor's white eyebrows rose as she wiped off the red. Spike stood in the corner, watching them intently. The doctor blew some air out of the corner of his mouth and continued, "Well then Miss Valentine we'll need a blood sample. The nurse will come and collect it." 

He exited the room as a nurse entered, young with brown hair coiled at the base of her neck. She was bearing a tray laden with syringes. As she began preparing one, Faye whispered in a small voice, "Spike?" 

He looked up, "Hmm?" 

She gulped and asked, "Umm…can you hold my hand, I'm scared of needles." 

She braced herself, waiting for taunting and teasing but none came. She opened her eyes; Spike was standing next to her holding her hand in his own. Relaxing against the pillows, the nurse walked over. Faye looked away from her arm and to Spike's face. A minute passed, and the nurse withdrew the needle. When she dabbed on the antiseptic, a few tears escaped Faye's emerald eyes. The pouch of blood was carried out of the room, and the nurse bandaged the wound. 

When it was done Faye leaned farther into the cushions, her skin so pale, you could see the veins underneath. Spike was astounded that this woman was afraid of anything, least of all needles. Her grip was so weak, her fingers felt like twigs, bending slowly. The doctor came in, shuffling his feet. Before they could ask anything he said, "We won't the test results for a while, maybe 24 hours. Until then, if you're strong enough to walk out, you can go home." 

Faye tried to sit up, straining but collapsed again against the white bed linen. Spike shook his head. The doctor nodded, "I see, then you can stay here for the night." 

Faye nodded in defeat as the doctor walked out. Spike took a cellular phone out and called Jet. After two rings he picked up.

"Jet? You at the bebop?" 

 The older man's gruff voice answered, "Spike? Yeah, I'm here. But where are you? Ed said something about the hospital."

"Yeah, we're here, Faye was coughing up blood and had some weird bruises on her back so we came, they took some blood." He glanced over to see if Faye was listening, she wasn't, merely staring out into the grounds beyond the window. He continued, "We'll be here for the night."

"Oh." Jet's voice sounded flat, "Ok, we'll come by tomorrow to check on you guys."

"Ok, bye."

"Bye." Spike hung up, and walked back over to the small couch, stretching out upon it, he focused on the sounds in the room, the machines beeping, people talking outside the door, and Faye's breathing. She was breathing a little strangely, kind of raspy, so he looked over at her. She was still staring out the window, but her emerald eyes were brimming with tears, about to spill onto her cheeks. He asked, "Faye, what's up?" 

She took a short breath, and murmured, almost child-like, "I hate places like this, where they don't tell you that the tests won't take twenty-four hours, it'll only take two, but they'll want to make you wait, run up the bill. You don't think they'll put me back do you?" 

He listened but asked, puzzled, "Where?" She turned to him, the tears escaping her eyes and trailing down her cheeks. 

"Cryogenic sleep." His multi-hued eyes widened and he shook his head,

"No, they won't. I promise." She nodded, tears slipping and splashing to the floor.

Spike shifted from his uncomfortable position, this couch made the one on the bebop seem like heaven. It had only been an hour, but he was already bored, and all Faye did was stare out into the land beyond, but Spike suspected she was thinking, not staring like an idiot purposely.  The doctor poked his white head in the door, "Mr. Spiegel? Can I talk to you outside?"

Spike looked over at Faye who nodded weakly. He stood up off the cramped couch and followed the doctor. They went through a few halls to a cubicle sort of thing, and he beckoned Spike to sit down. (A/N: they do have these. When I found out I had cancer, this was where they told my family, damn doctors) Spike spoke, a cold knot of fear in his stomach, "So doc, those were fast tests." 

The doctor took off his glasses and began polishing them furiously, replacing them on his face he answered, "Well, she was demonstrating signs of a disease that was wiped out over fifty years ago, before she was in cryogenically frozen, so we put it on the top of the stack." 

Spike nodded, having a hard time digesting what he was hearing, "So, what does she have? Is it what you thought it was?" 

The doctor looked at him with sympathy, "Mr. Spiegel, it's obvious you care a lot about Miss Valentine, but I need you to be strong for her." Spike didn't even try to disagree; all he wanted to know was if she had a disease. 

The doctor continued, "She has leukemia, a form of cancer that was wiped out over half a century ago.  But since it has been so long, we don't have the resources to treat it." Spike choked on nothing and coughed. Spluttering he asked frantically, "How did it get there?" 

"We think some of the cancer cells survived the cryogenic freeze, and have been multiplying in her body for upwards of five years, it just took this long for them to become evident. They are so far progressed, its' worse than anything in the textbooks."

"But- but she will be ok, right doc?" 

The doctor looked at him with pain in his blue eyes. "Spike she has six weeks to live, at most." 

 Spike just looked at him, "No, no doc, you're wrong. There has to be something!" 

The doctor shook his head, and repeated sharply, "Spike! There is nothing we can do! She will die!" his tone softened, "All you can do is stay strong for her, and make her comfortable." 

Spike shook his head mutely and the doctor exited, as the nurse entered. Picking up the extra papers the doctor left behind she looked at Spike, who was sitting with his head in his hands. She put a hand to his shoulders, and Spike burst into tears. She spoke softly, "Spike I'm Lira, and I think I should tell you, don't let them do anymore tests on her, it will only kill her faster. Also," 

She dropped her voice to a whisper as she continued, "Tell her how you feel, you don't have much time." Spike didn't even ask how she knew, just stayed with tears dripping to the floor.  

He nodded once, and Lira smiled sadly, "We already told the other man, and he said he'd tell the rest of them. So go and enjoy what time you have left, please."

She walked out, and Spike stayed frozen, staring at one spot on the floor until the tears blurred it beyond recognition. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve he stood up, and began walking back to her room. Jet was standing against the wall, and when he saw Spike he said, "Spike, I'm so sorry." 

Spike nodded and said, "We're taking Faye home, home to her family." 

TBC?


	3. Chapter 3

To Ni9h7ki773N: thank you for the review, and I know Spike's OOC. Besides my inability to keep people in character, there is a valid reason. I have leukemia, and it was supposedly terminal, even though I'm alright now. So I'm using the reactions of the people who were around me. It's not an excuse, just my writing style. 

To phobia: ok, in your review you said that "I see you've fixed what I pointed out, so perhaps you did pay attention to the review." Don't flatter yourself; I wrote this story beforehand, it's complete. I haven't changed anything but the format, which I was alerted to by Silent Venus. Any of the other reviews you give will be deleted, don't waste you time.   

To everybody: thanks for reading this, umm…I hope you're enjoying it. But please, don't pick apart my writing. I'm not perfect, never will be, so don't expect it. But I tried to include some in character stuff. But most of it's not (see above) sorry. This is my life, chosen how it could have been if I was terminally ill. This is the important thing though: if you don't like it, don't read it!  Don't waste your or my time. Clear enough? Hope so!                                    Sweet Misery 

By: Rynn Abhorsen

*********************3 weeks later, 3 weeks left, maximum***************************

Faye lay flat against the couch, only her eyes moved. It had taken two weeks for her to finally admit that she wasn't healthy; she had spent too much time arguing with Spike. 

**Flashback**

Faye leaned heavily against the bathroom wall, out of breath from a short walk. Spike lounged in the doorframe, cigarette hanging from his lips, a maddening smirk on his face. 

"You know it took you fifteen minutes to get here, right?" Faye shot him a venomous glare, picking up a tube of toothpaste she announced, "Spike, shut up or I'll kick your ass." 

He kept that annoying smile on his face and retorted, "You're in no condition to kick my ass." Faye yelled, "shut up!!" and flung the toothpaste in his direction. It bounced harmlessly off of his green hair, with Spike still smiling. Faye muttered under her breath, lunkhead, as Spike walked out.  

**End**

It had been one week, and it had taken numerous falls and coughing fits for Faye to admit to needing help. Spike mostly volunteered, Faye thought it was to see her asking for something.  Quietly she asked Spike, who was reading a magazine, expecting the same answer, "Spike, what's wrong with me?" 

The lanky bounty hunter turned, with the same look in his eyes, pain. Faye hated to see it; it made her feel like crying, which she did often now. Spike answered, "I don't know." 

Inside he hated himself for lying, for not telling her. He knew she was failing; she wouldn't live two more weeks. You could see it in her eyes, the way they were pale and ghost-like. But he couldn't tell her, he couldn't. A sob sounded, and he looked over at Faye. She cried often now, short sobs, without words, but this time it was different. She was looking at him, and her eyes begged. He walked over and moved her onto his lap, to help decompress her lungs, with her back in the crook of his arm. Her pale face looked into his, and she bit her lip. A trickle of blood slipped from her mouth. 

She couldn't speak; the doctors had explained it to him. When she cried, her lungs would compress, making it hard to draw breaths. She cried in choked sobs, like bursts of wind. It broke his heart to see her in pain, and he knew it was all she had to look forward to. She spoke, in gasping wheezes, "Oh Spike it hurts, oh it hurts so badly. I'm tired Spike, I just want to sleep, and slip away into the light." 

He put a finger tenderly to her lips, as if she were a china doll, "Shh…keep your strength Faye." 

She shook her head, tears slipped from her eyes, landing on his face. She continued, "Spike, it's the cancer isn't it?" 

His eyes widened and he almost tightened his grip around her, but was wary of the fragility of her body. "I know it is, I know it's the cancer. When I was at the school, a teenager, I found out I had cancer. Leukemia. I don't know why I remember it, but we- we went into space, so I could see it before, before-" Spike stared as she began to cry again. Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with her own.

"Spike I'm dying, don't hide it, I only wish, I wish-" she stopped and buried her head in his chest, tears soaking him through the thin fabric of his shirt.  

Ed was about to speak, crouched in her place on the stairs, but Jet caught her. He placed a hand over her mouth and whispered, "Ed, leave them, Spike and Faye have to figure some things out." 

He thought to himself, _I wonder how I can act so calm. I want to cry along with them, but I can't. Spike has to be strong for Faye, but he needs to tell her that he loves her, before it's too late. Ed, she's so perfectly oblivious, oh god, how will I be able to explain it to her? This is tearing us apart from the inside out, I want to stop time, I want to freeze it for just a moment. Please god, if you're up there, these people are my family, I need all of them._

Spike stayed cradling Faye, watching her face as the tears slowly dried. He thought to himself, _I want to memorize everything about her, her laugh, her smile. It's so stupid; you don't notice what you have until you know you're going to lose it. I never took her picture, never saw her when she was truly alive, when she was happy, and her smile lit up her face. The mask is crumbling Faye, but it's coming too late. I'll tell you, I will. But I wonder, who were you really, when we first met? What did you do when you lost your cool, how could you stay so calm? Were you ever afraid that the cancer would come back? _

_I love you Faye Valentine, too little too late. I love how perfectly you fit in my arms. I love your smell, cigarettes and cinnamon. I love the way your eyes used to spark, how you used to stare at me when you thought I wasn't looking. I love how you can be so worldly, and yet so innocent. I love how inside you still have a little bit of that child on the tape. I love how your hair falls in your face. I love how you'd argue with me and how you'd crash your ship into things. But most of all, I love you for being predictable, for being my Faye. _

_I wish this leukemia were a person, so I could kill him slowly; kill him for taking you away, taking away my Faye. A blow for every tear you cried. I hate this cancer, I hate it more than anything I ever saw or felt. I hate how I'm too cowardly to tell you how I feel when I know I'm losing you. Please Faye, just hold on for a little while, until I tell you. Please God, if you exist or care, please take care of her, I need her.  _

******************2 weeks later (5 weeks since diagnosis)*****************************

Spike sat with Jet, slowly sipping coffee. Jet spoke, "Spike, I know this sounds cruel, but, do you think the pain is worth it?" 

Spike stayed staring into his coffee cup, "I just need one more day, and then I'll tell her." 

Jet looked him in the eye, "One more day, then another. What happens when she won't be able to hear you anymore, she won't be able to hold your hand. My god man, what will you do when she's dead?" 

Spike stood up, still holding his ceramic mug. The veins on his hand popped out as he squeezed the mug, until it shattered in his hand. A weak call came from the living room, "Are you guys ok?" 

Jet stared at Spike, his dark eyes soft, "Please, I just want you to tell her before its too late." 

Spike murmured, "I will." And disappeared into the living room. 

Faye couldn't even move anymore, Spike set her on his lap, like always, hoping to reduce the pressure of the coughs, holding her thin hands, which were given to spasms. She coughed weakly, and whispered to him, "Spike, I don't have one more week, I know it. Spike, I want to go to the blue planet again, I want to go to earth. Please, take me there; please-" 

She trailed off as her eyes filled with tears. Spike nodded and whispered back, "I will, we're going now."

Faye nodded as he stood up, still cradling her gently to his body. He walked past the kitchen, Jet didn't see, past Ed, sleeping in front of the computer. Only Ein woke up, following them out into the hangar.  Spike carried Faye over to her ship, but she shook her head, "No Spike, not enough time, we won't get there in time. Have you seen it Spike?" 

As he walked over to the swordfish he murmured, "Seen what?" 

She coughed, over and over again, and wiped her mouth, "Have you seen the oceans, or the beaches with warm sand? Have you seen it rain when the sun's still shining? Have you seen the sky when it's so blue not even the sea compares? Have you seen them Spike?" 

He opened the cockpit and climbed in, holding her, as if she might break. He answered truthfully, "I had seen them once, when a little girl showed us her world, and she showed us what she loved so we could too." 

Spike looked down at Faye as the swordfish took off, and her eyes filled with tears. She whispered as her weak, pale hand wiped them away, "I'll never see them again. Love them for me Spike, and whenever it snows, think of me, it's me watching. That little girl she knew what was important, savoring things while they last, just like happiness." 

The stars streaked past the window, and Faye watched them as her head lolled on his shoulder. As she stared into the infinite void known as space, all she felt was the warmth of Spike. 

TBC?


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter was written after the fic's completion. It gives some insight into Faye's life as a teenager.

Sweet Misery 

By: Rynn Abhorsen

**San Francisco Hospital**

            The fluorescent lights glared through the girls closed eyelids; she crinkled them up, but only succeeded in making her dizzy. The table was cool, smooth metal, making her skin beneath the thin hospital gown pull up into goosebumps. She shuddered as they made her turn over on her belly, for another CAT scan. Letting her breath out in a quiet whoosh, to avoid their notice, but it was in vain. The doctors began to clamor again, speaking in hushed insincere voices. Her mother held her hand, stroking each finger softly, trying to avert the girl's attention to anything but the pain thrumming throughout her young body. Whispering in a voice thinly concealing panic she said (ooo look phobia, said) "Don't worry Faye. We'll have a big party for your fourteenth birthday; you'll be well by then. Everything will be alright." 

            Faye turned over again at the doctor's command, wrenching herself free of her mothers grip. Lying on her back, the pain rose up, settling in her head. She wanted so bad to rub her temples but she couldn't, that would pull out the intravenous tubes that had been administered under anesthesia. Her eyes shot open as the doctor murmured demurely; "good job so far Faye, now we'll need a blood sample." 

The teenager began to shriek, in pure animalistic fear, crying in a hawks scream. Her body was racked with sobs, her mother still trying to calm her down as several doctors flung themselves on top of her, compressing her lungs. A nurse pushed through the pile, stabbing a needle, once twice into the Faye's arm, injecting a strong sedative to calm her down. Faye kept screaming, even as the voices became blurred, and her eyes became heavy. Slipping off into sleep, she felt the tube being inserted, she screamed, screaming until her voice was hoarse, but no one heard her.

**Two weeks later**

Faye sighed as she shuffled into the hallway, pulling along the stand, which held the chemical drips. Her bare feet slid smoothly over the wooden floor of her home, as her mother followed in silence. It annoyed her to no end, more than the pain, but how people acted as if she was either going to die, or nothing was wrong. Closing her eyes she stopped, whispering weakly to her mother, "Mom, it's ok, I can get the mail by myself. And I need to be the first one to see the results." 

Her mother protested, but only for a moment, before going into the kitchen and began furiously stirring the batter for a pie. Faye smiled inwardly, her mother made pies whenever she was upset, but this was the most, sixteen. Their house smelled like a bakery, which was infuriating to Faye, who wasn't hungry at all. 

A soft noise alerted her to the fact that the mail was here, lying calmly on the welcome mat. Faye willed herself to move, ignoring the burning, searing bile rising in her throat. Bending slowly down, inspecting it for anything worth reading. Bills, the divorce proceedings, junk, and a large manila envelope. Faye picked it up, running her pale fingers over the rough surface. Everything, the tests, the whispers, the pain, it all came down to this envelope, which held her life between it's paper arms. She wondered if the person who mailed the results stopped to read it, if they cared about the thirteen year-old who this was for, if the news would make them jump for joy or cry. 

Her mother dropping a spoon in the kitchen, and a choice word brought her back to reality, back to the paper beneath the envelope. Her hand rose of it's own accord to the rim of the envelope, but wavered as it began to rip the seal off. Faye took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and ripped it off in one sweep. A simple white paper fluttered to the floor, the hospital's emblem just visible over the seam. Faye realized she was still kneeling down, reaching for the paper. She picked it up, ignoring the doctor's text and began to read:

Patient's Name: Davidson, Faye A.  

Age: 13

Test Results: Leukemia, terminal. 

            The room began to reel as Faye let the paper drift slowly to the floor. That one word, terminal was waiting to end her life, lurking beneath the edges of a disease. As Faye began to breath again she whispered, "Now every breath, every heartbeat matters."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: short I know, but this was written after the fact. Next chapter gets back to the present storyline. The phobia of needles and the mom baking was taken from personal experience. Please review.

 Namarie, Rynn                   


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: hey, I really want to apologize for being out for so long. See my white blood cell count went up 5% about three weeks ago, and we got all excited, thinking I might be off chemo. Except that I stressed myself, and crashed out. so I was in the hospital until last week, and then I was on sedatives (lithium) and pain killers (morphine), but I'm feeling particularly clear headed, so updates for you. All standard disclaimers apply.  
  
Sweet Misery  
  
By: Rynn Abhorsen  
  
**Spike's POV**  
  
I was vaguely aware of time as we flew. It wasn't important to me, I didn't care. At one point, Jets voice came over the COM link. I can't quite recall what he said, but I remember turning it off. I remember Faye smiling weakly, as her body slackened into a release called sleep. I wonder if in her dreams, she was something else, maybe someone so powerful, controlling time? I know it's what I dreamed of, of keeping her by my side. Some of the passing ships stared, I guess a grown man holding a woman so frail she should be dead isn't an everyday sight. Some obnoxious men gave me the thumbs up sign, as if to say, good job man, she's a hottie. I moved slowly, careful not to jostle her too much, and gave them the finger. We had four days until we would reach earth, so throughout the trip I repeated over and over again, "Faye hold on, please hold on."  
  
**********************3rd Person, 2 days later****************************  
  
Faye coughed, jerking Spike out of his trance. The blue planet loomed powerful in the cockpit window, filling it with light. Over the two days of traveling, Faye's health had dropped off sharply, and drove Spike to pushing the swordfish as hard as he could, getting them to earth two days early. Her clothes barely hung on to her frame, and her once shapely legs were like sticks, folded underneath her. The bones of her face were sharp and once, when she was asleep, Spike ran his hands over her cheekbones, jutting from her face, her eye sockets rimming her emerald gaze. Turning his attention back to Faye, he asked quietly, "Faye, where do we need to go?"  
  
Her pale lids opened, and the pain in her eyes made him feel sick. She extended one hand, ever so slowly, and pointed to a spot on the map. Breathing in wheezes, she sank back against his chest. She clutched his wrists and whispered, "We're going to the ocean. I want you to see it; I want you to remember it for me. Spike-"  
  
She was about to speak, but stopped. He thought to himself, Spike, you need to tell her. Maybe she was about to, but look at her, she's helpless. She's weak, she's fading. She's dying. No! She's not dying. But the sick feeling in his heart didn't let him believe it. She's weak, you're strong. Why do you want her to say it first, so you can't be hurt? Selfish bastard, what about her? His thoughts tortured him and the only solace he had was the beating of Faye's heart, hammering away at her frail body.  
  
**Earth**  
  
The swordfish sank into a clump of trees, seemingly untouched by the meteors that pummeled the earth. The cockpit opened with the smooth hiss of hydraulics, and he breathed in the air. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled, it was as if everything he felt while crammed up on that ship was only a memory. The smell was of wind, trees, water, and a faint hint of something sad. The dark cockpit of the swordfish suddenly took on resemblance to a coffin.  
  
His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Faye. Her skin was pale; it seemed to glow within the confines of the ship. Picking her off the seat she moaned, "Spike, the trees, the wind, the waves, they're calling me. Make it stop. They want me to join them; they want me to leave everything behind. I don't want to.I don't want to!"  
  
He cradled her as if she was a child, one hand under her knees and the other on the small of her back. Trees swirled around them as he walked. There wasn't an apparent path at first, but he noticed a definition in the leaves, a different pattern. Sweeping apart a few of the branches, he whispered to Faye, "Where are we?'  
  
She smiled, but just enough for him to know she had heard him, and answered, "A place from my past. We're near a city, once one of the best in the world. San Francisco."  
  
Spike tried out the word on his tongue, and nearly laughed at the way it sounded. It was unfamiliar to him, and it came out like he was gurgling. Faye laughed and that lifted his spirits. They stayed walking down the path, her head against his chest. She placed one hand over his heart and one over her own. Spike nearly jumped as her pale, cold fingers touched his collarbone, but stayed quiet. After a moment she laughed, but it was sad, and bitter. "Your heart is beating at 68 beats a minute, and mine is 32. Interesting huh?"  
  
He felt his chest grow tight at her self-fulfilling prophecy of death, and shushed her, "Faye, don't, just don't."  
  
She nodded as the trees began to thin, light began to splatter the ground. They were on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The cliff went at a slow slope to a steep drop off, maybe a hundred feet into the ocean. Green grass carpeted it, and small red and blue flowers dotted the hill. The clouds rose high, like kings, looming over the couple. They were white and puffy, like a picture. The sea was a deep blue, with occasional rips of white, as the waves swelled and crashed against the cliffs, only to be pulled back and reformed. Holding Faye, he silently wished, let her be like the waves, let her come back to me.  
  
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A/N: ok, reviews muchly appreciated, this story will be over soon anyway. 


	6. Chapter 6

Sweet Misery  
  
By: Rynn Abhorsen  
  
The cliff and ocean were quiet and peaceful, but to Spike it seemed filled to bursting with color, sound, and life. He stared in awe at the scene before him, but was pulled back into reality by Faye. For the past minutes he had been relying on her heartbeat, and it was as if he heard it in his mind, thump, a pause, thump.it didn't beat again. He felt panic seize him as he let her slide down to the earth, her head cradled on his jacket. Thump. One more heartbeat, Spike let out the breath he had been holding with a quiet whoosh.  
  
A gentle wind picked up, stirring the grass in endless waves, mimicking the sea below. Faye breathed softly out as the wind traced over her shoulders, ever so gently stirring the sweatpants and t-shirt she was wearing. She smiled, remembering,  
  
**FLASHBACK**  
  
The little girl, only six, stood precariously on the edge of the cliff, staring at the swells of the sea. Walking one more step, letting herself feel weightless, tricking her mind into an illusion of freedom, like a bird. Closing her eyes, she let her bare feet seek the knowledge of the earth, all its stories. The woman known as mother, the sweet woman who held her and soothed her, walked over, speaking with the caring evident in her voice, "Don't go so close to the edge."  
  
The little girl smiled, exposing her missing front teeth, the youthful innocence plainly written on her face. The woman took the little girls small hand in her smooth polished one, and walked back into the woods, oblivious as the little girl cast one last longing look at the sea.  
  
**Faye's POV**  
  
That little girl was so carefree, so beautiful in her innocence and shyness. I'm her, and yet her antithesis. She was stolen from me, a long time ago, leaving me helpless to sort out the puzzle. I no longer fear death, it's inevitable. I fear leaving them behind, leaving behind my friends. Yeah, they're my friends, all of them: Spike, Jet, and Ed. I'll miss everything, the hunger and laughing about it, the arguments that were our lifestyle. I guess I'll miss having a place to belong, even though I made it mine, with or without their consent.  
  
I keep drawing breaths, keep breathing, but I died a long time ago. I want to thank Spike for taking me here, and I'm sorry he has to be the one watching the rest of me pass on. I love him like I love all of them, and more. He's this enigma, caring but concealing it under layers of superficial skin, keeping things hidden so he can't be hurt. Or is that just what I wish, that he's keeping things from me, that he could be keeping love from me, and someday he'll give it freely? I don't know. I want him to love me, but I won't be around to find out. I told him to think of me when it snows, because I love the snow.  
  
Is it too much to hope for that I would live to see something other than pain? An interesting thought, but I can't linger on it. I feel my body slowly giving up, and I knew this would happen, but I wanted the five days I'm supposed to have left, the six weeks I was hoping for. Fire burns in my lungs as I draw each breath, and it hurts like hell.  
  
I guess I don't seem much like myself, but I'm not myself, I'm an old woman, a dying old woman. The effort to draw breaths is not worth the pain. So I'm going to stop. It is fitting that the cancer should stay in my mortal body, and my soul should be set free. See you somewhere else cowboy; see you when you join me.  
  
**Spike's POV**  
  
You're lost to me Faye; you're lost in the endless whirlwind that controls our lives. I'm wondering as you lie there quietly, where is my Faye? Where is the one I know? Is she still there inside of you, locked away in the chest of things you want to take? Could I tell you now? Would you hear me? You're not breathing, and I know it's time.  
  
**3rd Person**  
  
Spike was surrounded in the fragile calm of this place, but still felt panic fighting for its right to seize him, pushing it down he moved over, picking up Faye, whose eyes were still closed. He felt each rib curving under his support, and the last feeble beatings of her heart. She stayed with her eyes closed as Spike fought an internal battle with himself, emotions pounded in his head, bringing him to the breaking point. He forced them all down, distancing himself from all doubts, as he had one plaintive thought, this is my only chance.  
  
He put his mouth near her ear, smelling the perfume of Faye, the sweet but lingering smell of cigarettes and cinnamon. Whispering to her, hoping she could hear him, "Faye, I wanted to say, before you leave me, I love you, and I don't ever want to let you go. Faye can you hear me?"  
  
Faye smiled, a warm light surrounded her, and it felt as if all the pain was a mist, dissolving as the sun met. Dying was inevitable; all that was in her was joy. A call came to her ears, as she felt a warm breath on her ear. Only one phrase met her mind, reverberating from within, "I love you."  
  
She felt her lungs take in a sharp intake of breath, as her eyes opened, immediately filled with Spike's garnet gaze, the earth blindingly coming into focus. She smiled and gave a gentle nod, so small that it could be perceived as another breath to a bystander but Spike knew, knew as a bittersweet taste thrummed throughout his body, the wind still caressing his form holding Faye's.  
  
Hold on to me love, You know I can't stay long, All I wanted to say was that I love you and I'm not afraid, Can you hear me? Can you feel me in your arms?  
  
Faye smiled as her eyes began to fill with tears, warm and salty, full of life, the last remnants in her body.  
  
Holding my last breath, Safe inside myself Are all my thoughts of you, Sweet raptured light, It ends here tonight,  
  
She whispered as she felt her heart scream for one more beat, "I'll see you again, somewhere else, somewhere where I won't feel any pain. I don't feel any now."  
  
I'll miss the winter, A world of fragile things, Look for me in the white forest, Hiding in the hollow of a tree, Come find me,  
  
"The winter remember that I'm near you in the winter, I'm close to you, I'm by your side, remember me Spike."  
  
I know you hear me, I can taste it in your tears,  
  
Warm liquid fell silently onto her pale cheeks, running in tiny tributaries over her translucent skin, and draining into her mouth. Faye smiled, as she tasted the sweet lingering essence of the man who loved her, the taste of aftershave and smoke, her eyelids felt so heavy, closing them slowly as she felt Spike's lips gently brush her cheek.  
  
Holding my last breath, Safe inside myself, Are all my thoughts of you, Sweet raptured light, It ends here tonight,  
  
His mouth softly traced her jaw, and lingered over her lips, sweetly trying to find knowledge of a place after this, a place where they truly could exist with no awareness of pain. Faye smiled gently against his lips, letting her body slacken, letting her heart beat once more, as her lungs drew from the earth for the last time.  
  
Say goodnight, Don't be afraid, Calling me, Calling me, As you fade to black.  
  
As the air blew out of her slightly open lips, she willed her mouth and vocal chords to form the words; "I'll see you above the stars. "  
  
Her eyes blinked once, and settled on Spike's face, staying there, gazing at his tear streaked face as they closed one last time, finally released, never again to fight the will to sleep forever, never again to rise. Spike whispered as her empty body slipped from his grasp,  
  
"Above the stars." 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: it's short I know, but the last chappie was long, and this is the last one *sniffle*

**The Bebop**

Jet shifted from his uncomfortable position on the yellow couch while Ed stared at him quizzically. Even she had been relatively quiet over the past few days, just staring at the tomato and going to sleep in her bizarre and precarious positions. 

Jet leaned back, thinking to himself bitterly, _I wonder if Faye's still here. _He counted on his fingers;_ she should have three more days left. _ He was getting tired of sitting on Venus and their supplies were dwindling, but the knowledge that Faye had left to die weighed heavily on his shoulders. 

Standing up to ease his stiff back, he stared out of the window into the night. The lights of the city dominated everything, small illuminations beckoning the citizens. His dark eyes shifted up to the sky, and stared in wonder at the heavy clouds covering the stars. Wandering slowly back over to the couch, he stretched out upon it, and slowly fell asleep. 

_Noises, clinking and gurgling… _Jet scrunched his eyelids together, protesting noise's intrusion and departure of sleep. He opened one eye slowly, preparing himself for streamers of light, but finding none. He sat up abruptly to the darkened room. Ed was curled up in a fetal position, holding Ein to her chest, and someone had put a blanket over her shoulders. Thinking in his dazed state that someone must have found a way onto the ship, he picked up and ashtray and wandered slowly down the halls. 

Stopping in front of the closed doors to the kitchen, he was surprised to see light coming from underneath the door crack. Taking a breath, wrapping his hand even more securely around his weapon of choice, he flung the door open and rushed in.  Spike turned, holding two mugs of coffee. Apparently he wasn't surprised by Jet holding an ashtray menacingly above his head. Speaking with his voice hushed he inquired, "Want some coffee?" 

Jet nodded silently and joined Spike at the table, holding the warm mug between his fingers, asking silently, "Did you tell her?" 

He caught Spike's small nod, even though the younger man was still staring into the depths of his coffee cup. Not wanting to intrude, but needing to make certain he tried to ask, "Is she- is she?" 

Spike smiled even as his voice cracked. Answering with the purest truth, with sadness lacing his voice, he replied, "No." 

Jet had his mug halfway to his mouth, but dropped it, and it shattered on the tabletop. Spluttering he frantically questioned, "She's alive?!" 

Spike smiled, and answered, "Jet, her body is dead, but…" 

          He paused, as if undecided if he should let Jet in on this small remembrance of Faye, and gestured to the windows, as the little seedlings Venus was known for drifted down, forming thick blankets over the city, and the ship, " Jet, it's snowing."

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A/N: it's done, what did you think of it? And yes, I knew I was going to say "remember me in the snow", that's the whole reason I picked Venus. And now…the dedication!!

For all those broken dolls, for those who feel like they are only puppets in this plan, for those who must grow old before their time, for all of us who face a cruel reality. 


End file.
